Likes and Dislikes

Decided to make a list of things I like and dislike...

Things I like:

• Helping people.
• Finding out something I’m buying is on sale!
• Getting coffee with friends.
• The ocean.
• Playing dodgeball with my cousins in 30 degree weather at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Crazy family tradition. Hehehe.
• Caffeine.
• Shooting pistols.
• Waking up on Saturday morning to a thunderstorm.
• Smiling.
• Watching baseball.
• Reading.
• Building things.
• Pizza.
• Giving something to someone who needs it.
• Dogs.
• Music.
• The BEACH!!!!
• Playing softball.
• Kids.
• The feeling after a good workout.
• Cereal. Cereal is awesome.
• Jet skiing.
• Spending the entire day at the beach, then getting cleaned up to go out to dinner, and show off your tan. That’s one of the best things in the world. :)
• Eye contact.
• Grilling out.
• Mornings.
• The song "Barracuda".
• Watching or playing basketball.
• eBay!
• Flip flops.
• Writing.
• Lemonade in the summer. Hot cocoa in the winter.
• Walking on trails in the woods.
• Baking.
• Rollercoasters.
• Figuring out solutions to problems.
• Laughing.
• Sleeping.

Things I dislike:

• How the last part of a popsicle tastes like the wooden stick.
• Ignorance.
• The wind tunnel above the entrance of every Wal-Mart and Sam’s that blows air straight onto your head. What purpose does that serve?
• Being cold.
• Waking up five minutes before my alarm goes off.
• Having my time wasted.
• Being hit on – and it always happens when I am looking really rough… Guys are weird…
• Coconut.
• Running. Although I'm getting used to it now.
• Not being listened to.
• Being unprepared.
• Selfishness.
• Being late.
• Disrespectfulness.
• Rides that spin around and around. Makes me sick.
• Laziness.
• Static.
• Goodbyes.
• Being interrupted.
• Immaturity.
• Talking on the phone.
• Pulling all-nighters to study for a test.
• Rude people.
• Shopping for pants – they’re all too short!!!
• Chaos.
• Pollen, dust, mold, and cats. Allergic to all of them.
• Being stared at.

The Elevator

Today I was sitting at my desk at work, and was struck with one of my frequent cravings – I needed some chocolate covered pretzels and, more importantly, some caffeine. So I ventured down to the company store on the ground floor, where I purchased these tasty treats. Already with a little extra pep in my step at the mere thought of getting some caffeine into my system, I struck up a conversation with a woman walking in front of me. She was not really walking, actually, but hobbling on crutches, with a cast on her foot. We were discussing the fact that we both had broken only one bone in our lives –the left ankle. As we approached the elevator, we were discussing the causes of the aforementioned broken bone (mine was a street hockey injury). We were joined by a third woman, we all entered the elevator, and each of us pressed the buttons for our respective floors. By this point we were discussing (don’t ever do this) how we tend to have a propensity for attracting accidents and misfortune.

No sooner had the elevator doors closed and the elevator started rising towards the first floor, when it suddenly came to a halt with a quite disconcerting grinding sound. So here we were, caught between the ground floor and the first. Two things immediately popped into my head. First, I managed to grab the pager off of my desk before I dashed from my desk in a moment of chocolate-craving madness. But had I grabbed my cell phone? Nope. I was stuck in an elevator with a pager. Fat lot of good that would do me. I suppose someone could have started paging me once they realized I was missing. But, really, what are the odds that they’d wander around the entire building listening for the beeping? No one in my group cares about me that much. My second thought was, after accepting that I would not be able to page my way free, that it was very fortunate indeed that I had just purchased my pretzels and Dr. Pepper. With such nourishing sustenance clutched in my hands, this meant I would survive longer than the others. Now I’m not naïve, I knew a struggle would ensue once they realized I was the only one with food. But I had already begun sizing them up, and I knew I could have taken either one of them had they attempted to snatch my snack from my desperate, life-threatened clutch.

While I was pondering these thoughts, the other two were beginning to look slightly distressed, and had begun (again, don’t ever do this) pressing random buttons within the elevator. Had I not been so well-prepared for just such an emergency with my pretzels, soft drink, and pager, I may have joined them. I had a fleeting curiosity about what it would be like to plummet back down to the lower level of the building, enclosed within a steel box. But it was very fleeting. As they continued to frantically press all of the buttons AT THE SAME TIME, I had already drifted back off into my dream world, where I was reflecting upon the life I had lived so far, and wondering if I had just bought my last snack. Well, evidently I was meant to eat more chocolate covered pretzels after these, because finally we felt the elevator rise a little more, then stop, and the doors opened.

As we exited the death trap, we each breathed a sigh of relief and laughingly made a comment about being glad we made it off that thing alive. The crutch-aided woman was already on her floor, so she hobbled off to wherever she was going. I immediately headed for the stairs. I glanced behind me and the third woman had just pressed the “Up” button outside of the elevators. The doors opened to the elevator right next to the one we had just been stuck on, and SHE GOT RIGHT IN IT. As I slowly began my ascent up the stairs to my desk, munching on my cherished pretzels, I began pondering the theories of natural selection and survival of the fittest.
There just might be something to those after all…

Lime

With spring in the air, I was inspired to plant some flowers a few weeks ago. Because I’m in an apartment, this means I planted them in pots and put some outside and some inside… I went to Lowe’s and picked out several different varieties, came home and decided exactly how I wanted to arrange them. Then I planted them, watered them, and placed each pot in its assigned spot. They are still beautiful, and are thriving. I’m only including this information so that everyone who reads the following does not think I’m completely incompetent when it comes to plants.

My grandmother has the greenest thumb of anyone I’ve ever known. All she has to do is look at a flower that is on its last leg, and it will miraculously spring to life. My mother, on the other hand, seems to have a black thumb, if there is such a thing. Horticulturally handicapped, if you will. Yes, I’m pretty sure I just made that word up since spell check is screaming at me to change it. But I’m not going to because I like it. Anyway, if there is a plant within twenty feet of my mom, it will keel over and die. One time when she was at my house, I spotted one of my plants starting to look very sick indeed, and I think I saw a tiny little white flag being raised. I had to hurry mom out of the house before it was too late. Haha, not really. I just want to make the point that flowers react very differently to my mom than they do to my grandmom. And since I have both of their blood running through my veins, I knew it’d be a toss-up as to which one I’d be like.

A few months ago, I had been up at my parent’s house and was getting ready to leave, when I noticed a sad little pot of ivy sulking in the corner near the front door. If plants could talk, this one would have screamed, “For the love of Gardenia, take me with you!!” So I did. I asked mom if I could take it and try to revive it. She said sure, since she was only going to throw it away anyway. I was determined to bring this thing back to a healthful state. I put it in its own special place in my dining room, and kept a constant vigil of its color, the level of sunlight, and the soil hydration. A day or so later, I decided it’d be a good idea to look online for tips on how to care for ivy, because I had no idea what type of environment, amount of water, etc it needed. So I checked online and found an article with a lot of helpful tips. One tip was that people tend to over-water their ivy, and it gets moldy. Noted. Ivy doesn’t need much sunlight. Got it. Make sure it is in an appropriate container to allow for adequate soil drainage. Check. Then I read the following: “Ivy prefers slightly alkaline soil. If your soil is acidic, add lime.” Aha! Acidic soil! That had to be the culprit.

Now, I’m going to pause here for a moment and explain to those who may not already know – I am a very literal person. Very. Whether it’s a good or bad thing, that’s what I am. So, when I see an article that says “add lime” I’m going to add lime. Well, apparently the person who wrote this article was referring to agricultural lime, which is a compound of calcium and magnesium, used to raise the pH of soil. But when I read lime, my thoughts went straight to the little green fruit.

I needed to go to the grocery store that evening anyway, so I went ahead and picked up two or three limes. I came home from the store, humming “put the lime in the coconut”, and proceeded to squeeze the juice from one of the limes right into the soil where my ivy sat silently screaming. Very pleased with myself and my diligent research and follow through, I sat back knowing the ivy would perk right up within a few days. The next day my mom came over to the apartment, and I very proudly told her the whole story, and explained that I expected to see a rapid transformation within the next few days. To her credit, she managed to keep a straight face during my story. Then she asked me, “When you say you added lime to the soil, what exactly do you mean?” I told her I cut a lime in half, and then squeezed the juice out of it, into the soil. Again, to her credit, she didn’t laugh in my face immediately.

But she has not let me live this one down, and I no longer have any room to talk about the fact that she kills plants. Because I not only kill them, I managed to devise a plan to torture and kill my plant. The ivy actually did start doing okay over the next several days. But then I guess it soaked up so much acid from the lime juice that it took a turn for the worse and deteriorated at an alarmingly rapid rate, then finally croaked.

I’m hoping at least some of my grandmom’s ability was passed along to me, and that the ivy incident was a one-time thing. But I won’t quit my day job, just in case.

Running

This week I began my own “training” program, designed by yours truly, to get myself in better shape. I was looking at the requirements for the physical fitness test for Air Force Officer Training School. Basically they require each person to be able to do a certain number of pushups in one minute, a certain number of situps in one minute, and be able to run a mile and a half in a specific amount of time. Pushups don’t really give me any problems, but I’m going to slowly build up to being able to do more. I could do situps all day long, so no problem there. But running. Ah, running. So begins my next post.

First, some background: For those who know me even fairly well, think back to a time when you saw me running… or doing anything really quickly, for that matter. I myself have recently tried to pinpoint exactly what type of occasion or event would inspire me to run from point A to point B. The only thing I have been able to come up with is – if someone or something is chasing me with the intent to kill. Short of that, I will only be inspired to walk briskly.

So this week I left the familiarity and comfort of my old friend the elliptical trainer. I have spent many hours on that machine, while reading a book, listening to my iPod, watching TV, juggling knives, you name it. On this machine you can do whatever you want while you’re exercising, which means you distract yourself from any discomfort you may be experiencing. You can do these things because you determine your own speed, and it’s pretty impossible to fall off unless you’re trying to do something stupid. Today, since I am trying to get in better shape, and increase (actually, develop is a more accurate word here) my ability to run for a respectable amount of time, I did not get on the elliptical trainer.

Instead, I walked right past it, straight to the dreaded machine…. where trepidation and angst hover like a looming thundercloud. The last machine in that place that I would ever get on willingly. That’s right. The treadmill. So here is the first of my two questions: Why would anyone voluntarily throw themselves onto this racing conveyer belt of death?? I don’t think people who run on treadmills are running for enjoyment, relaxation, or even for the health benefits. They are running for their lives. Because if they stop running, they will be forcefully hurled into the wall that is always conveniently located fifteen inches behind the treadmill. I think anytime you see someone on a treadmill, either it’s their first time, and they have not yet figured out how to turn the thing off… Or it’s someone who has conquered the fear of being pitched directly into a solid concrete wall, and they get some sort of thrill from achieving this victory on a regular basis. Whatever. More power to them.

The second question I have is this: Whether on a treadmill or not - why in the world do people enjoy running?? I can imagine what might be enjoyable about it. You can clear your head, let your mind wander, and it makes you feel good because it gets your adrenaline going. Well, maybe it’s just because I’m new to it, but when I’m running, my body is screaming at me, “What are you doing??!!! This is not at all pleasant!! In fact, it hurts, and I want to stop NOW!!” And that’s just what I heard during the first 12 seconds or so into my run. I’ve heard runners say that there’s a point in your run that you have to just “push past” in order to keep going. I thought maybe they meant push past some mild discomfort or slight dehydration issues. Apparently they meant you have to push past your legs turning to jelly, your knees buckling, and your poor lungs positively begging for more oxygen. Basically, when you feel your major body systems shutting down, just “push past it.”

So the disdain I already felt towards treadmills has now been coupled with my absolute animosity for running. I managed to stay on that horrible machine for 10 minutes. That’s right. 10 minutes is all I could muster. And of that, only 6 minutes were spent running. I had to alternate 2 minutes walking with 3 minutes running. Pathetic, I know. And when I finally stopped, and stepped back on solid ground, the only thing that kept me from crumbling to the floor in a lifeless heap was the fact that my knees were already so sore they wouldn’t bend enough to allow me such a gracious courtesy.

So that was my day at the gym. Fun times. And I’m looking forward to many more…

A Gentle and Quiet Spirit

“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” – 1 Peter 3:3-4

A gentle and quiet spirit is definitely something I aspire to have. I think some people consider gentleness to be an indication of weakness, but I think it’s the opposite. I think in order to be gentle you have to possess a certain type of strength. For example, in a difficult situation, you have to be able to dig deep and act out of that gentle and quiet spirit, rather than reacting according to your human instincts. A woman can be strong and still be gentle, because her strength comes from the Lord, and she can use that strength to be gentle to those around her.

Also, I think the word ‘quiet’ here means peaceful… not necessarily literally quiet. A woman with a quiet, or peaceful, spirit is someone who does not get rocked by every wave in life, and does not base her decisions, actions, or attitude on her feelings. A woman with a gentle and quiet spirit not only possesses the ability to remain calm and at peace, but she inspires these things in those around her.

The following is from the book Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge:

“That is what beauty says – All shall be well. And that is what it’s like to be with a woman at rest, a woman comfortable in her feminine beauty. She is enjoyable to be with. She is lovely. In her presence your heart stops holding its breath. You can relax and believe once again that all will be well.”

This book talks about how many woman are so busy and stretched so thin that they are unable to feel any peace themselves, let alone instill a feeling of comfort and peace in those around them. Instead they cause people to feel the opposite, because they are striving and not resting. It also talks about how many of our role models are woman who are constantly on the go, getting things done, and making things happen. But the women in my life who I look up to are not like that. They have a certain quality about them. They seem to be at peace despite their circumstances, and just being around them causes me to feel the same way. These women are in no way weak, nor are they meek, mousy little women who never say anything. They are not strong in and of themselves, but they lean on the Father for everything, and it makes all the difference in the world. I am thankful for these women God has placed in my life for me to look up to, and I hope to be able to have the same impact on someone down the road.